Spinning Bottle
by Message
Summary: What if the spell in 'Spin the Bottle' hadn't worked for 15 years. . .when the gang had families and had all seperated. How will their kids handle this?
1. Fifteen Years On

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Buffy or Angel characters. They all belong to Joss Whedon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Imagine that the spell in 'Spin the Bottle' didn't take effect for. . .oh say. . .fifteen years. Now, imagine that the gang broke up after season 4 with Wesley and Fred getting together and going to live in London, Cordelia and Angel getting together and staying in L.A., Gunn and Gwen getting together and staying in L.A., and Lorne being the Lorne we love and heading off to Vegas. I wonder what will happen. . .hm! Read on!

London, England, April 5th, 2018

"What time is it," Fred asked her husband as she looked up from the book in her lap.

Looking down at his watch, and rubbing his eyes, Wesley was startled to see that it was already three 'o clock in the afternoon.

"Time to put these away," he replied to her question, standing and opening the cabinet with the padlock on it.

Following him, Fred placed her book in the cabinet beside his, brushing her hand against his own, then placing a hand on his back, "that's not why I wanted to know."

Putting her lips on his as she said this, she giggled when he kissed her back, stumbling into his chair with her on his lap, "well, I suppose we do have a few minutes."

"Mum! Dad," a female voice yelled as Haley Wyndam Pryce entered the study to find her parents practically making out.

"Ew! Gross! Get a room," she said, though didn't disappear as Wesley and Fred adjusted themselves quickly.

"Well, we would but we probably still couldn't escape our wonderful children," Wesley muttered so that only Fred could hear him.

"Did you need something," he asked, somewhat frustrated at being interrupted, though his question was soon answered as his son, Jacob Wyndam Pryce, came hurrying into the room, his sister's pink cellphone in hand.

"Geese, don't flip your wig, I only wanted two of your friends' numbers," he said, looking at his parents, "see, I gave it back!"

Folding his arms, his frustration growing, Wesley rolled his eyes, "how old are you, Jacob?"

"Thirteen," the boy replied, knowing what his dad was doing.

"And do you know better than to steal your sister's cellphone to get her friends' numbers," the older man asked as the boy rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Dad, but. . .they're hot," the boy glanced at his sister, then took off running up the stairs towards his bedroom.

Sighing, and touching the spot on his forehead, where he could feel a migraine forming, Wesley knew the evening would not be relaxing. In fact, he'd probably have to break up a fight or two with threats of thrashings and groundings, empty of course.

"It's your night to handle this," he said, looking at his wife, who shook her head.

"I don't think so. It was my night the last time," she said, patting his chest, "I'll get you some aspirin."

"Much appreciated," he muttered as he heard yelling from upstairs. Why were teenagers so tough? Why couldn't his two older children still act like their younger sibling, Hope? He'd have to make her promise to keep her sense about her when she got back from science camp the next day.

All in all though, he had to admit, he would rather have them arguing than in danger from some evil entity. If he could only get some then things would be perfect.

Los Angeles, California, April 5th, 2018

"Hey, there handsome man," Cordelia Angel said as she took her grandson from his mother.

"He's getting bigger everyday," Conner said from the corner, where he was talking to his father.

"Yes, he is. Aren't you," Cordy asked the baby, as Claire went to her husband.

"He's getting strong, too. It must be those vampire genes," she said, looking at Angel and Conner.

"Oh, honey, don't worry. They're hard on the outside, but big softies on the inside," Cordelia said, smiling to husband, and giving him a wink.

"We're not softies," both men protested, with Angel taking a couple steps towards his wife and the baby.

"I mean, yeah, I like Barry Manilow, but who doesn't, and. . .oh, does he have my eyes," he asked, looking carefully at the baby.

"Softy," Cordelia said, making the other two laugh.

"Well. . .," Angel started, getting flustered at not having anything to counter this, "okay, I am, and as an admitted softy I'd love to hold my grandson."

Handing the baby off to Angel, Cordelia smiled to Conner and Claire, and thought how perfect everything was.

Los Angeles, California, April 5th, 2018

"Mommy," young Chuck Gunn exclaimed as he ran across the yard to greet his mother.

Smiling widely, Gunn watched as his wife picked their son up and twirled him in the air, then picked himself up off the grass and walked over to her, giving her a passionate kiss.

"Hey, there, stranger. Been gone long enough," he asked as she held up a black bag.

"I got what I went for," she said with a wide smile, putting little Chuck down and wrapping her arms around Gunn.

"Does this mean no more surprises," he asked quietly.

"This one isn't a prototype," she replied, "I should never shock anyone again."

"That's good, because I mean, it was rather shocking, no pun intended, when I got a jolt when we were trying to. . .you know," he raised an eyebrow, "and speaking of which, I think we should finish what we started as soon pos. . ."

"Do you two mind," the fourteen-year-old barged past them, interrupting their tender moment.

"Not really. Do you," Gunn asked his daughter.

"Somewhat, I mean, I like to walk around my house without having to see that," Alonna put a hand on her hip, an eyebrow raised.

"How do you think you got here," Gunn asked, picking up the hose and spraying his daughter.

Watching Gunn chase the kids around the yard with the hose, Gwen couldn't help but smile to herself. Things were so perfect.

Grabbing his head as the migraine set in again, Lorne looked around, grabbing a bottle of aspirin.

"This doesn't make sense," he said to himself, "it was fifteen years ago."

It was then he knew what he had to do. He had to get in a car, and get to Angel and Gunn. Then, they'd have to call Wesley. God, only knew what could happen after all these years if that spell came into effect! One thing was for sure though! It wouldn't be good!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Uh-oh! What's going on? Will Lorne get to them in time? I hope so! Please read and review! Next chapter will start with us in the Wyndam Pryce household.


	2. LA Bound

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Angel or Buffy characters. They all belong to Joss Whedon.

London, England, April 5th, 2018

"Jake, Haley, time for dinner," Fred yelled up the stairs, hoping the kids wouldn't get in another fight before they reached the bottom.

Walking into the kitchen, Wesley smiled to her, his migraine finally subsided, then placed a quick peck on her cheek, "maybe after dinner, I could get some dessert," he whispered.

"If you play your cards right," his wife responded, giving him a small kiss on the lips, and smacking his rear with a dish towel.

"Urgh! Can you keep the public displays of affection to a minimum," Jake asked, sitting down at the table next to his sister.

"Yeah, I know! I caught them making out in the study earlier," Haley piped in.

Rolling his eyes, Wesley was thankful they were just getting along at the moment. "We really should have thought about that couple's offer to adopt our twins," he said aloud, placing the casserole Fred had made on the table.

Looking at him, then the twins, Fred borrowed one of Jake's famous mischievous grins, "I wonder if they'd still take them."

Sitting at the table, Wesley shook his head, "I think it was a one time only deal."

"Ha-ha, very funny," Jake smiled, "but what would you do if we weren't here to make your dull lives interesting."

"They'd probably sit around wishing they had children as wonderful as us," Haley grinned, helping herself to the casserole.

Scoffing, Wesley rested his elbow on the table and shook his head, "is that what you think we did before we had you?"

Both children nodded, making their parents laugh.

"You're father and I had quite the exciting lives before you two came along," Fred said, sharing a knowing look with Wesley.

"Yeah, well, what'd you do? Watch paint dry," Jake asked with his mouth full.

"No, we fought vampires and demons," Fred said, smiling.

Exchanging a glance, both children began cracking up, "yeah, sure! Are you positive you weren't insane before you had us?"

Laughing it off, Wesley raised his eyebrows to Fred, who took a sip of her wine, and stared right back. "It's t. . .," she began, but her husband cut her off.

"They're thirteen, Fred, too old for us to fool with those stories anymore," Wesley said, nudging her foot with his own under the table.

Feeling uncomfortable with the scene, Jake glanced from one parent to the other, "yeah, we're too old to be fooled by that kind of crap. Maybe you should try Hope."

"God. I wonder what they'll be trying to get us to believe next," Haley chimed in, amused.

Laughing it off, Wesley traded another glance with his wife, which she returned with a glare, letting him know that 'dessert' was no longer on the menu.

Sighing as he padded down the stairs in his pajamas, laundry basket in arms, Jake couldn't stop thinking about the tension at dinner. Maybe his parents were just having a rift. They never fought openly in front of the kids though, that is, when they fought. The two were perfect for one another.

Of course, could they being acting like things were perfect to cover something else up? Surely they weren't close to a divorce. Jim from school thought his parents were perfect, too until they got announced their split. Maybe he should start paying closer attention.

Getting ready to push the kitchen door open, the boy stopped at the sound of muffled voices from the other side.

"I just. . .I don't know, I'm thinking. . .maybe it'd be better for them to know," he heard his mother say, then the sound of a dish slipping into the water.

"After all these years? Do you know how absurd it would sound," his father said in a slightly louder whisper, and then continued, "besides it was you who said you didn't want our children to know."

"I know," his mother said, "but I was pregnant! I was thinking about them as babies, and how scary it would all be for them, but the twins are thirteen, and Hope isn't far behind, and now I'm thinking of them as teenagers and adults, and I just want them to be prepared!"

Sighing, Wesley leaned against the counter, and scratched his head. "I don't know. Maybe the older two could know. We could sit them down. We could. . .," he was cut off as the phone rang, making Jacob jump.

Realizing it was behind him, he quickly ran up the stairs and out of sight as his dad came out of the kitchen, and picked up the telephone, "hello?"

Deciding to act casual, Jake came back down the stairs, passing his father on the telephone as he went, and trying to get snippets of the conversation.

"Good Lord, Lorne," Wesley asked his old friend, grabbing Jake's arm as he passed to get his attention, strangely making his son jump.

Giving him an odd look, Wesley pointed to the laundry basket he had left by the kitchen door, and rolled his eyes. He hated when one of the kids left their stuff lying around. Going back to the conversation, all thoughts of Jake and his misplaced laundry basket fled his mind.

"We need to come to L.A.," he asked, surprised, "the bottle? Lorne, you're not making any sense!"

Taking a deep breathe, Lorne calmed down and began to explain everything, starting with the night they had performed the spell to return Cordelia's memory. Wesley listened, intently, and held didn't interrupt until the very end.

"So, now you need us in L.A.? After fifteen years? Lorne, we have. . .," suddenly aware of the fact that Jake hadn't moved at all, but was rather still standing five feet away from him, staring intently at his father, and trying to eavesdrop on the conversation, Wesley pointed at the kitchen door, sternly.

Rolling his eyes, the boy picked up his laundry basket and went into the kitchen, where his mother was finishing the dishes alone. "Hey, sweetie, who's your dad talking to," she asked, wiping the final dish dry.

"I dunno. Some guy named Lorne. He keeps going on about L.A.," the boy said, carrying his laundry into the room adjacent to the kitchen. Throwing the dishtowel down, Fred went into the hallway where Wesley was wrapping up his conversation with Lorne, and hanging up the phone.

"What's going on," she asked, "Jake said you were talking to Lorne."

Nodding, Wesley made a mental note to talk to Jake about eavesdropping later. "Yeah, it's pretty serious," he said, "we have to go to L.A. . . ."

"L.A.," Haley squealed from the top of the stairs, making both her parents jump. "When are we going," she continued, making her way downstairs.

"We. . .," Fred began, but Jake cut her off as he came out of the kitchen, "what's going on?"

Rolling his eyes, Wesley took his wife's hand, and let her toward the study, where he shut and locked the door, explaining everything Lorne had just told him to her. At the end of it all, they both agreed, they had to get to Los Angeles fast.

Opening the door to the study, Fred had to avoid the two teens that fell in. "We were. . .uh. . .," Jake began, trying to think of a good reason he'd have his ear against the door, but couldn't. "So, are we going to L.A.," he gave up and asked.

"Yes, go pack your things," Wesley said coming from behind his wife, no hint of a smile on his face, just seriousness. Scrambling up the stairs both children laughed and high-fived.

Watching, Wesley and Fred exchanged a knowing glance. The kids had no idea how serious this visit was.

"I think we should tell them, in L.A.," Fred said, "all of them."

"It's times like this I almost wish we hadn't dragged kids into this world," he replied.

"Yeah, I know! You are definitely not getting laid tonight," Fred said, climbing the stairs to their bedroom so she could go pack for the trip.

"The last time an apocalypse threatened I got laid," Wesley said to himself, following her up the stairs.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Next chapter, landing in L.A. and the spell. I think the kids are in for a little more than sun and sand. What do you think? Please review!


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